Defender's Heartbeat

Chapter 11

Manuel

After Enzo turned six, I moved to the bodyguards' rooms. Enzo came to my room to see if I was packing to leave for my new quarters. He removed his T-shirt and showed me a red line that ran from the middle of his back to his hip. I was shocked. "What happened?" I asked, stopping what I was doing and kneeling in front of him.

"I fought with Louis when we were eating. Papa hit both of us with a cane," he said.

"Why did you fight?" I inquired, worried.

"I called him a fucked face because he's pale. He got mad and blamed me. So, I threw food at him. Then he threw food back at me, saying I destroyed his T-shirt. That's when Papa hit both of us," Enzo explained. I knew Louis and Enzo consistently insulted each other due to their mutual hatred, and it seemed Enzo was making excuses for his behavior.

"Where on earth did you learn that word?" I asked, taken aback. Enzo was just five years old.

"Diego said. He taught me some more. Do you want to know? Fuck, bitch..." Diego was Enzo's best friend.

"Whoa, whoa, stop, stop. Those are bad words," I interrupted.

"Yeah. We are big now. So, we can use bad words," Enzo declared proudly.

"Who said you're big now?" I asked, looking at the tiny human before me.

"Isn't that why you moved there? Now I can take care of myself because I'm big?" He looked at me with his Bambi eyes as he spoke. He wasn't big yet, but his Papa wanted to reduce how much time we spent together. I thought that was why he wanted me to move to the bodyguards' quarters of the house. Gerardo believed that excessive connection between his employees and his family was inappropriate. Although Juana was twelve, her maid's room was still adjacent to hers. However, Juana made sure to treat her maid exactly like a servant.

"No, baby, you're not that big yet," I said, gently squeezing his cheeks between my thumb and pinky finger without hurting him. His cute face was soft and squishy like a sponge.

I noticed he was struggling to say something to me, but he seemed unsure whether he should tell me or not. He kept glancing at me, then looking away, seeming lost and confused.

"Do you want to say something more?" I asked.

"Papa said Mama died because of me," he said, staring at the floor.

"WHAT? WHAT THE FUCK," I accidentally said fiercely and a bit louder than intended. I knew how Enzo's mom had died in a car accident and that Enzo was also in the car at that time. He was just two years old then. Anyone with a brain could understand that a toddler couldn't do anything about a car accident. So, I was mad at Gerardo for saying something ridiculous to Enzo. It was not Enzo's fault that his mom had been in an accident and died. Yet, Gerardo was accusing his son of causing his wife's death. If this was how Gerardo treated his son for something he didn't do, I could understand what kind of man he could be to outsiders.

Enzo looked at me, surprised by my cursing in front of him. He seemed scared, seeing that I was angry.

I quickly lowered myself to his height and said, "Hey, come here. He's lying, okay? Trust me. He's lying. You are a good boy. You never did anything like that, and you never will. You trust me, right?" He nodded, and I hugged him tightly.

"Are you angry with me, Papa?" Enzo asked quietly.

"No, baby. Why would you ask that?" I asked, looking at his face.

"You talked angrily," he said, his eyes filled with fear.

"I'm sorry for shouting, okay? Did I scare you?" I asked, stroking his hair, and he nodded yes.